Klempner
I stab into the cement with my steel ‘pick’, then thump at the shaft with my fist, hoping for that rotten-tooth-in-socket nudge that might say it’s finally working loose.
Nothing…
My stomach twists and churns. Beyond hunger now, my craving for food is a constant, griping, gnawing ache that drains energy and spirit.
I could just lie down and wait for the end.
Fuck that…
My shoulders ache. My limbs ache. I keep changing from one hand to the other for my work, but now, knuckles and fingers are a mass of small cuts and abrasions which spike painful reminders at me with every move I make.
Sleep.
Sleep will help.
Creaking upright, I fill my cup, gulping down the water. It fills easily, more of a flow than the usual trickle, and I gulp down more, trying to convince my stomach it
